Redemption in the Glass
by Living Winter
Summary: Once and for all Vaskay has had enough. Men don't treat women equally in her world, she will prove them wrong, no matter what it takes. Set in the Second Age 1000-1600 years, after the defeat of Morgoth. Rated T for safety - contains OC
1. Chapter 1

She hated it. From the moment she'd realised, she'd loathed the very way men disregarded her, degraded her. They saw her the same as any other woman, put there to produce heirs and look after the house. Only Vaskay's brother had seen it differently. He had know she had spirit and a fiery passion equal to, if not greater than, that of the greatest of men.  
Her brother was dead now, as cold as stone, he lay at their feet. Her mother wept uncontrollably, hardly able to lay eyes upon the broken body of her most beloved child. Vaskay's father made no sound as he silently acknowledged the honorable passing of his adored son. Vaskay disappeared, to her room. The stone floor was cold and it chilled her feet in a painful manner. She wrapped her cloak about her, determination was etched into her face.

"He will see, I will make him see," she told herself. Now Varandir was dead her parents would no longer care for her, she was just another household burden. She picked up her brother's sword, it was useless in her hands. The women of her people were not taught to fight, only to serve. Magic had long been her ally and she called upon it now, it strengthened her. She had learnt from a passing wayfarer, bent on seeking the end of Middle Earth, he had stopped to teach her.

She left the house in the quiet of night. The sky was swathed in a violet-ebony hue and plagued with stars. One great, shining crimson star was overhead, signifying the death of Morgoth at the hands of the Valar's Host. Vaskay had been born during the one thousandth year of the Second Age. The War of Wrath had taken a toll on Middle Earth, it had caused many disputes in its wake. One of these disputes had taken the life of her brother, valiant in battle he had been run through. Vaskay left it all behind, travelling westwards, from her homeland of Rhun. She had heard whispers from the West of the great Lord Sauron who had renounced all evil he had committed under the orders of Morgoth. She had heard grand tales of bravery and adventures. Vaskay would prove to everyone at home, prove that she was something, not just a whimpering young maiden and servant to all men.

Months later she arrived, bone-thin and worn, at the ancient ruins of Angband. The ruins of a fortress thousands of years old, here she lay in silence for a time. She was close to death and nothing stood in her way. During her journey she had learnt much from tavern legends and had chosen Angband as a worthy place of pilgrimage, but there was nothing left. She stumbled past the crumbling gates, surveying the land with fading sight. She had accepted her demise long ago, all that was left of her once fiery passion had died like water over coals.  
Vaskay Celeberan sought a final resting place. A tower. It spired upwards from the desolate earth, like a thorn in the side of the world. Staggering with exhaustion she fell to her knees within its wall. Vaskay looked up for what seemed like the last time, she knelt at the foot of a black, marble alter. Atop the alter a pit was whittled, within it lay a perfect orb, as black as death. The alter was carved with olden words, they blurred and she dropped to the ground. This was not the heroic death she had foreseen. She had long abandoned helpless thoughts of ever seeing her parents again, but now she wept. Vaskay wept for her lost brother, Varandir. Tears painted the dry, bare ground beneath her. She swallowed, and with the last of her strength reached out to touch the ancient stone. Her mind swayed and stumbled into the hungry void.

Vaskay awoke. Somehow, from the emptiness of death, she had risen. There was no earth beneath her, a rough mattress supported her frail frame. The girl was no longer in Angband. She was warm, and the sleeping covers surrounded her, trapping warmth beneath. She heard the snapping of a cooking fire and the pottering of a creature through its inventory. She didn't dare open her eyes...


	2. Chapter 2

She had thought she was dead. What was this then? The afterlife? She pondered this possibility, and dismissed it almost immediately. Again she heard the rattling of pots, and soon the soft thrum of boiling water. She summoned up the courage to open her eyes. Fire light suddenly flooded her vision, and left her dazed. She could just make out her surroundings. A forest clearing and a small coking fire. A cloaked figure was hunched over a black pot, his broad shoulders indicated he was a man.

"Awake?"

She started.

"Y-yes," she swallowed, her breathing was labored, "who are you?"

The man chuckled, and turned his head to look over at her. He was only young, her age. His skin was fair and un-tanned, as one would've expected, with the colour of travel. He was clean shaven and has hair the hue of pale gold. He had appeared a human ranger at first, but she saw no he was an elf. Pointed ears protruded from long stands of his almost perfect hair.

"I am Silinde Vardamir, elf of Mirkwood," he answered, getting up, "alas, I have abandoned my past life. And who, pray tell, might you be?"

Vaskay reharded the strange elf with curiosity, she had never laid eyes on a being of such beauty. It was captivating.

"I-I am Vaskay Celeberan of…" she paused, "of Far eastern Rhun".

"I see," he bent down next to her, a harsh wooden cup filled with water in his fair hand, "drink".

She took the cup and downed it gratefully, as she did, Vaskay caught a glimpse of her own hand. It was almost skeleton thin, malnutrition had taken its toll on her body. She was fortunate Silinde found her when he did, she was fortunate to be found at all. Angband was far from any settlement, nestled at the feet of the Iron Hills.

"I am indebted to you, Silinde of Mirkwood," she recited solemnly, "and I thank you".

Her palm was across her heart in a grave oath.

"Think nothing of it," he smiled, azure eyes twinkling, "what were you doing, if I may ask, in the Ruins of Angband?"

Vaskay didn't answer immediately, debating whether or not this elf was, indeed, trustworthy.

"I heard the legends…"

"Of Morgoth, and Sauron? The War of Wrath has destroyed all that once lay here, save for a few towers left standing".

"Yes, that's where I fell," she recalled, "but there was a stone on an alter. Somehow, it bears some significance to me, yet, I cannot see what…"

"We can return," Salinde assured her, sensing her intentions, "when you are well. Now get some rest".

She nodded sleepily, she new she could trust this elf. There was just something about him, she couldn't determine it as of yet. There was just something…


End file.
